


hours left to sleep

by crumbsfiction



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, Inspired by The Night Circus, M/M, that was already a tag wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crumbsfiction/pseuds/crumbsfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s nothing but a pawn in their game; a travelling circus is the sparring ring and his fate was sealed the morning he was picked up from the orphanage.</p>
<p>(for lawlight week 2016, day 6: magic AU. inspired by The Night Circus, no knowledge of the book necessary)</p>
            </blockquote>





	hours left to sleep

> We are such stuff  
>  As dreams are made on; and our little life  
>  Is rounded with a sleep.
> 
> _The Tempest_ (4.1.146-163), William Shakespeare.

 

For as long as he can remember, the focus of Lawliet’s life has been knowledge, and the acquisition of it.

As a child, he was described as _gifted,_ a natural genius in every aspect, save perhaps in the area of social graces. That’s why Wammy took an interest in him, he supposes, his intelligence and the way he would always hide away from the world he had deemed inferior, choosing to curl up in the library with only dusty books of glyphs as company.

He’s spent years studying, memorising every spell and rune he can get his hands on. _You’re meant for great things_ , Wammy often tells him, and he can’t help but wonder what they are.

He is older when he finds out about the rivalry, centuries old - Wammy versus Yagami, an infinite game of chess between two masters - and his place in it. 

It’s not teaching at all – it’s a competition. 

He’s nothing but a pawn in their game; a travelling circus is the sparring ring and his fate was sealed the morning he was picked up from the orphanage in a horse-drawn carriage more expensive than anything he had ever seen before in his life. 

This is where Lawliet decides to abandon his countless books and study his mysterious rival instead.

-

The circus is coloured in only black and white, the only exception being the glow of the bonfire in the centre of the bazaar. There are more stories in circulation about it too count. Some say it’s haunted, possessed by spirits of former masters who were killed by their fellow magicians. Some say it’s the fuel of the circus itself, the only thing that keeps the performers from aging and the spells from fading over time. 

Light believes, as any rational person should, that it’s just a regular magical fire.

Despite the black and white palette, some of the more devoted visitors wear a splash of red on their monochrome clothing, but Light finds the colour too eye-catching. It draws focus away from his creations and hard work.

But then of course, the circus is easy to manipulate when you know what you’re doing. 

If there’s one thing he’s figured out about his rival, it’s that the illusions he creates are all a fiction of the observer’s imagination, a trick of the eye, a slight of hand. It’s quite literally all in your head.

This is where Light is superior.

The circus, to him, is a stage - a place for Light to let his vivid imaginations come true. He can create anything he wants from his imagination alone, anything he dreams will come true. He makes it look easy, effortless even, but it’s taken him a solid decade of study to hone his skills.

The result it this – his thoughts are tangible, and a polished apple plucked ripe from Light Yagami’s mind will taste sweeter than any honey-glazed cake the finest patisseries of Paris has to offer. 

It’s a form of godhood, in a way.

-

One of the first things Lawliet learned in his studies was that time is fluid and meant to be manipulated. It passes quickly, too quickly, and soon he can’t keep track of the days anymore. A year feels like an hour, a decade like a day. In the end, it doesn’t really matter when you possess the powers he has. None of them will ever age, after all. It’s eternal.

Their first meeting ends with bruised knuckles and a blackened eye. Lawliet prides himself on the swift kick he delivered to Yagami’s jaw, but his cheek is slightly swollen for days afterwards.

Naomi, owner of the circus and head manager, makes fun of it relentlessly, which only adds to the injury.

“You’re cut from the same cloth, you know,” she says as she pokes the side of Lawliet’s face, making him wince.

“I think that is rather the point.” 

-

A visitor’s black coat, at the wave of Light’s hand, sprouts wings and turns into a live raven, soaring quickly towards the open skies. Its feathers have the same shade of inky darkness as Lawliet’s hair.

-

The following day, there’s a forest made out of ice in the very heart of the circus. It reflects the flames of lit candles like prisms, creating the sensation of walking through a giant, frozen chandelier.

_For the ice prince_ , says a note tied to the corner of the tent flap, written in nearly indecipherable loops.

-

The kiss is inevitable, really.

The ball is tedious, and Light finds Lawliet behind a heavy velvet curtain on the upper floors, far away from his mentor’s dancing guests.

“A childish hiding spot for a childish man,” he comments, but there’s no venom in his voice. They’re far past that now. Years of fighting a battle fuelled by a rivalry that isn’t their own, and Light is tired. At the sight of Lawliet’s creations, he always moves from reluctant admiration to irritation and back to downright awe. He’s tired of that, too.

“How long are we going to do this for?” Lawliet asks, and Light hears his own weariness in his opponent’s raspy voice.

“As long as it takes. You know this already.” _Stop asking me things I don’t have the answers for. You know how much I hate it._

Lawliet’s shirt is wrinkled and his lapels uneven. Light moves forward to straighten them, and - 

- 

“How do we know who’s won?” Lawliet asks, time after time again, and the non-answer Wammy gives him is all the confirmation he needs. 

_It’s either you win, or you die._

When the time comes for everything he’s ever known to end, the choice is easy. His cold hand fits into Light’s warm one like they were made for this very moment, this very night. It’s win or die and neither of them are the losing kind. 

If they can’t best each other, they’ll best the game. 

Lawliet looks to the bonfire, grips Light’s hand a little tighter and closes his eyes.

-

The Circus of Dreams is eternal.

A hundred years from now (or is it two?) Naomi will tell her youngest recruits about the two spirits that make up the beating heart of the circus, letting their imagination and dreams mingle to create and destroy, building the circus every night only to tear it down at dawn.

They won’t listen much, of course, the redhead too busy pulling the blonde’s hair and getting yelled at in return. The boy in white will look preoccupied with his tarot cards, but will occasionally throw Naomi an odd glance, like he can’t really believe her story.

And the blond will ask, “Why would they choose to die together, just like that?”

And Naomi will put on her most teacher-like voice and say, “You weren’t listening, were you? They didn’t die and they never will, just like the circus. Aren’t you paying attention? This is important.”

Outside their tent, the bonfire will burn on, casting a warm glow across the black and white tents. The flames sound like whispers, accompanies only by the bell-like chiming of the ice trees moving in the wind. The closer you listen, the less you will hear. The conversation is private, to make up for all the ones lost on other people.

Naomi likes to imagine that they’re bickering, much like they did in life, but she can’t be too sure.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading this fic which is identical to all my other fics. anyway, i've had this au in mind for a long long time. if you haven't read the night circus i recommend it!


End file.
